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Archive

I remember the taste

I remember the taste of my parents’ wedding cake. No shotgun metal in the rum frosting, but sweetness in the flour, us kids suddenly giddy.

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Everything is new

Everything is new, including the squint & the absence of two front teeth. He’s still like a sparrow, flitting; looking for me in the crowd.

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I sang for these rupees

I sang for these rupees. And dodging the cars, scooters, the childlike wonder of slumming tourists, I find Rehka stirring dal by the road.

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I find, in the dirt by the plot

I find, in the dirt by the plot of potatoes, an egg hastily painted pink & blue. I’d buttoned your coat then, a wet kiss on your forehead.

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Caught in the plume of her red dress

Caught in the plume of her red dress, the wind steals up her legs. The boys, delighted & mortified, giggle behind their hands; blessed.

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